


Mycroft Pity Party

by Tikatikox



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, Holmes Brothers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mycroft-centric, Poor Mycroft, References to Depression, Sherlock Feels Guilty, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 02:33:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11303925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tikatikox/pseuds/Tikatikox
Summary: After Sherrinford, Mycroft is having a major depression and no one come to help him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my third attempt to write Holmes brother fic.  
> English is not my native language so I'm sorry for grammatical mistakes.

“Goodbye, brother mine...”

And then Mycroft look into his baby brother’s eyes. That eyes, the eyes that always look so bright and piercing through Mycroft’s soul. He know he’s lost when Sherlock pointing a gun towards him. No, he’s always know that he’s never be in his brother’s priorities, and how much he’s not on the same level as Dr.John Watson in Sherlock’s life.

He closes his eyes and waiting....

BANG!

And there he is, wake up and trembling on his own bed with heart beating so fast.

* * *

 

 

It’s been months since Sherrinford and everything’s getting better. Sherlock and Eurus has managed to create a good relationship through music and violin, and somehow it makes Eurus calmer. And Sherlock has passed his trauma and get his memories back, that’s all thanks to John who’s become so supportive and never leave his side. Molly, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson get their roles in Sherlock’s life too. They check on him simultaneously, never left him alone to prevent his drug-use for. And don’t forget about Rosie, who’s become a new light in Sherlock’s world.  Sherlock just like a sun, a magnet, where everyone is rotating around him. He is, indeed, the centre of the world.

And then there’s Mycroft, staring in the mirror for a long time after wearing his jacket until Anthea called him to make sure he is going to the office this morning.  It’s a habit from his perfectionism to check his appearance in front of giant mirror, check his tie, his pocket watch, his socks, his jacket, just to see everything is in the right place. But since Sherrinford, he takes a lot of time in front of the mirror. Because unconsciously he keep thinking that there’s something wrong. There’s something that misplaced. He try so hard to convince himself that his appearance already perfect, normal like everyday. But actually, deep down he knew that he is broken inside. And he don’t have any idea how to fix it.

He closes himself from his brother’s life which mean almost his entire personal life since the last time he visited Eurus with his parents. Mummy said she already forgive him, but the disappointment still linger. So Mummy stopped contacting him, so he did. And he stopped seeing Sherlock too. He’s been so hurt when he knew Sherlock sent Lestrade to check on him. If the role was reverse, he would dropped everything and anything just to rushed to Sherlock to make sure he’s alive and well. But then Sherlock just sent him Lestrade. For what? Just to check that he’s still breathing with no bleeding organs? For comforting him? Sherlock knew for sure that Mycroft never ever let himself dwell on emotional context outside his personal life, so why he bothered to send a stranger?

He means nothing to Sherlock. Nothing.  He can’t help that he always think it would be better if he was shot at the Sherrinford. Let Sherlock killed him physically. And then self-blaming become inevitable for a perfectionism like him. He keep regretting his mistakes, up to the point he regret for being alive.

And his nightmare last night didn’t make anything better. He’s on his lowest since he wakes up, so before he goes to the car that waiting in front of his door, he takes a gun from his bedside table and put it in the pocket of his jacket.

 

 

* * *

 

He’s eating a lemon tart for his lunch. Alone in his dark office, his mind isn’t getting any better. He diagnosed himself that he has a major depression, and he doesn't know how to get out from this hell. He keeps reading a lot of mental illness books and finding that the first step to healing himself is reach out to someone. Someone who? He doesn't trust psychiatrist, he doesn't trust anyone. Anyone but Sherlock.

And his deep dark mind, he creates a plan.

* * *

 

 

The first time Sherlock see his big brother cry is when he’s 8. After what happened to the Eurus and Sherlock’s memory loss, Mummy have been in temperamental mood for some years. And that day Mummy is crying in the living room, and Mycroft try to comfort her but end up a fight. Sherlock can’t hear the words clearly, but he remembered that she said something like “being a proper big brother!”

Mycroft just run into his room and locked the door.

Later that night, Mycroft knock on Sherlock’s door.

“Mycie, are you ok?” Sherlock looks up from his book. Mycroft just sits down beside him and silent for a long time. Sherlock still staring at him, unsure of what to do. He never knows what to do about Mycroft.

“I’m fine. I just... sad... I guess.”

“Then why don’t you cry, My? People cry when they’re sad, right?”

“Can I?”

And Sherlock doing what his big brother always do if he’s crying. He patted Mycroft’s head and at that point, tears streaming down from his big brother’s blue eyes.

Sherlock wakes up groggily from his nap. He just realised he had fallen asleep on the sofa, and now Rosie is playing with his hair while John in the kitchen.  And he can’t brush off Mycroft’s crying face for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

 

His black car arrived in front of 221B that evening. He told his driver to left him here and no need to pick him up. He prepared himself to knock, thinking about what Mrs.Hudson will say. She opened the door and give him the most unpleasant look.

“I really need to see Sherlock. This... Is urgent.”

She didn’t say anything, just give him a cold look, and let him in.

He climbed the steps and could hear Sherlock’s laugh. It’s a good thing.

While he let himself into the living room, he finds Sherlock and John sitting on the carpet, playing with Rosie. The air in the room is so warm. So lively and cheerful. There’s a lot of bright coloured things scattered here and there among Sherlock’s books and experiment tools.

The laugh suddenly stops when the perfect family aware of a new guest in the living room.

“Mycroft...” Sherlock look at his big brother in disbelief. It’s been a long time since last time they’ve met. He didn’t really think much when he realized that Mycroft has been avoiding him since Sherrinford. He’s too busy fix his life and assumed Mycroft is doing okay, and Mycroft just get fed up with him. But he become anxious when he look at Mycroft now. Mycroft looks tired. His eyes is not as intimidating as usual. He suddenly remember the sad Mycroft in his dream that afternoon.  He step up to reach his big brother when John’s started talking.

“Why? Why now? After your brother’s condition is getting better, why now? Are you going to apologise? Are you come here to beg forgiveness? Where were you when he’s fighting with his nightmare and that bloody memory?! Memories that you’re trying to repressed from himself!”

“John!” Sherlock startled to hear his best friend. He didn’t blame Mycroft at all, and he knew Mycroft has his own reason for his disappearance.

Mycroft just looks at John and sighed. “Doctor Watson, would you mind if I asked you to bring your daughter out of this room? I need to talk to Sherlock, and I’m afraid the subject are not appropriate for a little girl.”

“No. This is my house Mycroft, and I’m not doing what you want.”

Mycroft just stares at the doctor. John. Right, John the family. And then he looks at Sherlock that already standing in front of him.

“Mycroft? What is it?”

Mycroft reaches his pocket and hand out a neatly wrapped gift box. Scarf, more than 12 pieces, Sherlock find out just when he touches the box.

“I know it’s a week early, but it’s your Christmas present. I need to go now. Merry Christmas, brother dear.”  He took a sight of Sherlock’s blue eyes. This tall – lanky guy in front of him has been his purpose of life as long as he could remember. To protect Sherlock, to guide Sherlock, to become a big brother for Sherlock. And now he accept the reality that Sherlock could manage on his own without him. His baby brother has grown up.

 

“It’s ridiculous. What you’ve been up to, Mycroft?”

“Nothing” He smiled, “I just had an interesting case from the Queen and I’ll be gone for Christmas. Just to make sure you’re not crying because the lack of Christmas presents so I decided to give it to you before I departed.”

“Stop lying to me!” Sherlock didn’t realise he’s raising his voice. The pain from Eurus and Victor past still haunted him, and unconsciously he blamed it all towards Mycroft.

Mycroft startled but then he grabbed Sherlock’s shoulder tightly and look deeply into his baby brother’s eyes.

“I lied to you for your own good, Sherlock. I know I’m very limited and that’s the best I can do. Goodbye, brother mine.”  And then he let go without seeing Sherlock’s reaction. He just walks passed him and rushing down, out of 221B.

 

* * *

 

It’s already midnight when he reached Bart’s rooftop. It’s cold as expected in the end of December. He just stands there, contemplating to jump, but his mind always calculated the risks and the possibilities every time he closes his eyes. He tried to shoot himself but his hand is shaking so hard until he can’t pull the trigger.

He’s helpless. He really wanted to end his life but he just can’t. It’s like his soul just give up but his body still wants to fight. Or maybe deep down he just wants some help. Who? Sherlock’s help? He just smiles faintly at the gun in his hand.

“Why can’t I just give up?”

He takes off his coat and suit jacket then he lied down in the cold cement, looking up to the dark December night. He keep thinking about his life. About his family and siblings. How his parents hate him, how his sibling hates him even more. How everything gone wrong  And then he closes his eyes, feels the cold air stabbed his body. Die in the cold just suited The Iceman.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter, full of fluffy Holmes Brothers feeling. I'm sorry if it's a bit of OOC. And if you like the angsty one, you could stop at the first chapter.

Sherlock just sits on his chair plucking his violin. He ignores Rosie and John for the rest of the day, he’s going in his first sulking-mode since Sherrinford. Well, since the big discovery of his past, he becomes more serious and mature on many aspects, and he stopped his childish-sulking since then. But then when he saw Mycroft at Baker Street, he can’t help it. Sherlock will always become a child whenever Mycroft is present.

The scarfs scattered around his chair. All 12 scarfs, dark blue, the same as the one that hangs on the wall beside his coat. He can’t understand his brother. What happened with Mycroft? Is this some kind of joke? Is Mycroft angry with him? Mycroft didn’t come once since Sherrinford to Baker Street, and actually, it makes him anxious. But then he thought that Mycroft just angry with him, or fed up, or he just feels guilty. His brother has the ability to complicated things about emotional context. Or emotion is complicated in particular? Or maybe Sherlock just can’t reach that part of human life?

He plucked his violin all night long until dawn when he heard a car, which is Lestrade’s. Actually, he’s not excited at all for a case for this moment, but he thinks a distraction wouldn’t be so bad. Sherlock jumps from the couch and changes his dressing gown with a coat and scarf before Lestrade could step on the last stair.

“Whatever the case is I’ll not go with your police car.” He said while opening the door. He takes a look at the DI and see him only in a shirt and pants without a jacket and tie under the coat. And from the bag under his eyes and his ruffle hair, Sherlock could tell that the DI is not in a crime scene but sleep in his house before coming here. So someone calls him in the middle of the night but not for a case. This is... a personal matter?

“I think my car is the best solution right now.”

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s your brother.  A clerk found him in Bart’s rooftop. He’s trying to kill himself.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened in disbelieve. He’s speechless and just stares at the floor. And Mycroft’s  crying face from his childhood flashing through his mind.

 

 

* * *

 

The Icemen is cold. His body is trembling greatly. His body in pain. But it’s better than the invisible pain in his chest. It’s so dark and he’s ready to embrace the darkness. But a crying voice stopped him. Ah, that’s his little brother. A cute little brother with a pirate hat, crying so hard. It’s just like that time when he going off to university.

“Sherlock, I need to go.”

“No! I hate you! I hate you fatcroft!”

“Yes, yes, you can hate me forever, brother mine.”

But every step he takes, his little brother cried become louder and louder. It’s really annoying. Neither going to university nor dying, his baby brother always comes in the way. Why is he always makes thing so complicated? That drama queen.

 

 

The first thing that catches his eyes is a dark curl that clung to his right hand.  Sherlock is sit down in a chair beside the bed and put his head on Mycroft’s side, he’s sleeping soundly and will wake up with aching back because of his position.

Mycroft slowly pulls his hand and stroke his baby brother’s curly hair. It’s been ages since he really touches his brother affectionately. Sherlock woke up immediately after feeling something in his hair.

“My..Mycroft!”

He stands up abruptly and looks into his big brother’s eyes, searching for a silent answer.  Mycroft just looks back at him and his mouth formed a thin line. Sherlock gives him a glass of water slowly.

“I guess this means I haven’t dead yet?”

Sherlock eyes that had been holding back tears just give up. Mycroft present always bring the child on him, and he just can’t help it. The tears streaming down his eyes and he’s sobbing so hard because a lot of emotion bursting out in his chest and he doesn't know how to control it.

At first, he planned to keep a calm and flat expression just like how his brother greet him everytime he opens his eyes in a hospital. He trying to look calm and collected.  But when he heard his brother broken voice and the way he sounds so desperately wanting to die, Sherlock feel he’s back at the time when Mycroft is going to university and all he could do is just crying and silently begging his big brother to stay. And now he’s doing the same.

“Oh, Sherlock... I’m sorry, forgive me.  I don’t have any intention to make you cry...”

“Then why would you do it!? Why!? You could just... You... Just cry! Just talk to me! Come to my room and cry in front of me, just like at that time! I just...”

And he’s sobbing so hard, again. His chest feels so heavy and he can’t breathe. He realised how useless he is as a brother. He can’t even stop his tears while the one who commits a suicide is calm and collected on the bed. How he missed the sign? He always thinks that Mycroft is omnipotent. He never really cares that actually, his big brother has a heart inside him.

“I’m sorry Mycroft.. I’m so sorry.. “

“It’s alright, brother mine. It’s not your fault. How can I blame you while yourself are on mental treatment? I’m the one who’s at fault for everything and I can’t bear the guilty feeling, Sherlock. That’s why I do this.”

“It’s not your fucking fault! Mycroft! Why you always do this- complicated things between us! Why!”

“You need to say that in front of a mirror”

“Mycroft!”

“I know Sherlock, I’m sorry..”

Sherlock just grabbed Mycroft’s hands tightly. Tears still streaming down from his red eyes.

“Say it, My! Just say it!”

Mycroft closes his eyes and take a deep breath, and look into his baby brother’s eyes.

“Sherlock, would you help me? I need you as much as you need me.”

Sherlock couldn’t hold himself any longer. He bent down and hug his big brother. It’s awkward angle and he just buried his face in his big brother’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry Mycroft. I need you. Don’t leave me. Forgive me.”

“I always forgive you, Sherlock. Keep that in mind.”

“You always be there for me, My. Please let me be there for you too.”

“I will, Sherlock. I will. I guess emotional context just not really our area, brother mine.”

“Maybe we need to learn that from all the goldfishes, Mycroft.”

“We will see.”

Mycroft strokes his brother’s hair and for the first time in his life, he’s not regretting his unsuccessful plan.


End file.
